


a way to hang the sun up in the sky

by pocky_slash



Series: Team Shithead [13]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghost Hunters, Awkward Conversations, Established Relationship, Graduate School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 11:03:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8665147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocky_slash/pseuds/pocky_slash
Summary: Alex has enough on his mind without having to dissect the strange twisting in his stomach that comes from watching John play with a baby.(AKA Alex thinks about the future. And panics.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Happy belated American Thanksgiving! If you're new here, you might want to read [the rest of the series](http://archiveofourown.org/series/542227), but if you find that daunting, just know that the gang are in grad school to study ghost hunting.
> 
> To the old guard: I am very thankful for all of you, and not just because it's Thanksgiving. I'm thankful EVERY day ♥
> 
> This is in response to a prompt on tumblr: "anything with ghosthunters John and Alex being happy" and based on a scenario pitched to me by either **caphairdadbeard** or **thefangirlhood**.
> 
> Title from Dar Williams' "You Rise and Meet the Day." (I think this is my first Dar Williams title in this fandom, so this is a milestone.)

The Bianchi house is on a shady street in Mountain Lakes, one cookie-cutter house on a neatly manicured street. It's surrounded by a lovely green lawn and there's a row of rose bushes leading up the path to the front door. No matter how many times they get called out to these _Leave it to Beaver_ neighborhoods, Alex doesn't know that he'll ever fully acclimate to the knowledge that places like this _actually exist_.

Today, they're meeting with a woman about a possible disturbance.

"I don't know if it's anything," she had said on the phone the day before. "My husband and I can be forgetful, and Cece's nanny is in and out during the week. There might be explanations for things moving around. But...well, we've heard things. And seen things. Sort of. Maybe. Well, Cece has."

It was cryptic, yeah, but Alex took down all her information and yesterday evening, he and John and Burr put together a PoA and gathered some equipment for a preliminary investigation. They're shorthanded today—Mrs. Bianchi had asked to meet them at 12:30, which meant that Laf was stuck in class and Herc was who knows where. It was just going to be Alex, Burr, and John.

In theory. Alex checks the time on his phone again and taps his fingers nervously against his thigh. Burr spares him a glance as he straightens his tie, then rings the doorbell.

"He warned us," Burr says quietly.

"I know, I know," Alex says. Inside, he can hear footsteps on hardwood approaching the door. "I just—"

"Can't function without him, yes, we're all aware."

Alex would flip Burr off, but Mrs. Bianchi pulls the door open before he has a chance.

"Good afternoon, ma'am," Burr says, all smiles. "I'm Aaron Burr, this is my colleague Alexander Hamilton. I believe you spoke with him on the phone?"

Mrs. Bianchi's eyes dart between them quickly, the way that their wealthy white clients always look at them before letting them into their houses. Alex doesn't let his polite smile slip from his face, and after a split second, Mrs. Bianchi returns it.  
   
"Of course, please, come in." She opens the door and gestures them to come inside, then glances curiously behind them. "I was under the impression—"  
   
"Our other colleague—our photographer—teaches a lab until noon, so he'll be arriving momentarily," Burr says smoothly. "There are always a few students who linger with questions after these things."

"Of course," Mrs. Bianchi says again. She's charmed by the idea of a bright young teacher among them, Alex is sure, probably because it's been an age since she attended college and she doesn't remember how monotonous these labs tend to be and how little the TAs actually teach within them. "Can I get you gentlemen anything to drink in the meantime?"

They set up in the kitchen, Mrs. Bianchi fetching them both glasses of water as they lay out their tablets and the binder for the case. She sticks her head into the adjacent living room, where Alex can see a tiny child sitting on the floor and playing with dolls. She says something and the little girl nods, her brown, curly hair bobbing along with her head. The doorbell rings before she can sit down again, and she darts back into the foyer. Alex can't hear exactly what's said when she opens the door, but he can recognize the cadence of John's voice, even if he can't hear the words. A moment later, both Mrs. Bianchi and John appear in the kitchen. John is all apologetic smiles and Alex's stomach somersaults embarrassingly. It's so stupid—he saw John, like, three hours ago. They've been dating for almost nine months; the way his body lights up the moment John enters a room should stop eventually, but there's still no end in sight.

"Hey, guys," John says as he joins them at the table. His fingers brush the nape of Alex's neck in greeting as he walks by. "Sorry I'm late, my fretters are already freaking out about finals. What have I missed?"

"Nothing, yet," Burr says. "We were just about to get started."

Mrs. Bianchi checks in on the kid one more time before sitting across from them. "Okay. How do we start?"

"Can you give us an overview of the problem again?" Burr says. "In your own words. Then we'll have you take us through the house to the places you've noticed the disturbance and set up some equipment to see if we can capture it again."

"Okay," she says. "Well, I guess it started about a month ago. I kept losing things when I put them down. Stupid things, really—my daughter's toys, my keys, my phone charger. Little things. I assumed, at first, my husband may have been moving them and forgetting about it, but then he mentioned to me that he was losing things, too. We'd find them all over the place and we just figured it was Cecelia. She told us she wasn't doing it, that it was Lucy. We both thought it was some imaginary friend until we started finding them in places she couldn't possibly reach. That was about a week ago—it was when the noises started. Whispering and something that sounded like giggles. Nothing menacing or scary on its own, but when you're alone in the house, it can be spooky. Drew was hearing it too, so we figured it was time to make some calls."

Alex glances up from the notes on his tablet. "And didn't you say someone had seen something, too?"

"Well," Mrs. Bianchi says, "that's the problem, really." She gets up from the table and walks over to the doorway to the living room where the little girl is playing. Alex, John, and Burr follow. "Cece's really the only one who's seen it and--well, I've tried to talk to her about it, but it might be that I'm not asking the right questions? Nothing she says makes any sense to me, and I just--" She spreads her hands helplessly. "I don't think it's hurting her, but I'm so nervous, so I thought--"

Jesus, a _kid_? She's gotta be like, four or five at most. Maybe younger--five is when school starts, right? She's definitely younger. Alex has no fucking idea how to even start with interviewing someone who's barely mastered the alphabet.

"Don't worry about it, Mrs. Bianchi," John says. To Alex and Burr, he says, "You guys do the walkthrough. I can handle this."

Burr gestures him forward. Alex is too shocked to do much of anything but watch.

"Hi there," John says, walking into the living room towards Cecelia. He sits down on the floor next to her. "What are you doing?"

"Playing," Cecelia says. She looks away shyly and plucks at the hem of her t-shirt.

"Cool," John says. "I really like your shoes!"

"They're light-up," Cecelia says, perking up. She kicks one of her little legs and her heel does indeed light up pink.

"I wish they made light-up shoes for grown-ups," John says. "My shoes are boring." He's wearing scuffed up dark grey Converse, which are possibly the diametric opposite of Cecelia's white and pink glitter shoes.

"They are," she agrees. Alex can actually see her starting to open up to John little by little.

"What are you playing?" John asks.

"Well!" she says. "This is the mountain where the bad guys live, and this is the castle where the Princess and her ninjas live...."

Cecelia babbles on about the intricacies of her game and John meets Alex's eyes over her head. _I've got this, keep going,_ his gaze says, and Alex nods. He'd like to stay here and watch John play with Cecelia, but--

Wait. Why the fuck does he want to stand here and watch John play with Cecelia?

"He's handling it," Alex says to Burr. "Let's go."

Alex and Burr go through the house with Mrs. Bianchi, taking notes on the places where she and her husband lost items and heard noises. Alex taps notes on his tablet, part of his mind on that task, part of his mind on where he'll mount equipment, and part of his mind back in the living room with John and that little girl. He doesn't know why it's so distracting. It's like his stupid joy at seeing John arrive this afternoon—he _lives_ with John, they do everything together, he shouldn't be so preoccupied with how _cute_ he is.

When they finish the walkthrough, Burr pulls out the keys to the van.

"Should we go get our equipment?" he asks.

"Let me grab John," Alex says.

Alex isn't sure what he expects when he heads over to the living room, but it's not what he sees when he looks inside. John is sitting cross-legged on the floor and Cecelia is kneeling in front of him. She slowly reaches forward and then taps John on the nose. He blows a raspberry and she rocks back, shrieking with giggles. Then she moves closer again and repeats the whole process, earning another raspberry that induces another round of giggles. After the third time, while Cecelia is curled up on the floor laughing, John glances up at him and mouths, _In a minute_.

Right. Well. They'll just have to start without him.

Mrs. Bianchi has joined him in the doorway and she's grinning fondly at the sight as Cecelia pokes John on the nose again. The same expression might be on Alex's face. He feels...he's not sure how he feels. Distracted by how much he likes John, maybe, which is stupid. His heart is full and heavy and tight the way it sometimes gets when he catches John in a certain light and is struck silent by how much he loves him. He doesn't know why it's so persistent today—there's nothing strange about today, nothing out of the ordinary. He was a little pissed at John this morning, even—he drank the last of the coffee without putting on a new pot and then used Alex's tablet and closed a couple tabs he had open in the browser by accident. There's no inciting incident, there's nothing in particular that's reminded him that John is the love of his life. They're just...at work.

He shakes his head and returns to where Burr is waiting.

"John's still talking to the kid, let's start our part and we can help him with the cameras after he gets the story out of her."

"Sounds good," Burr says.

It doesn't take them too long to set-up, and Alex's brain is too full of angles and channels and wires and configurations to think very much about John or anything else. It's relaxing, giving in to the routine of calculating sight lines and mounting equipment. He and Burr even work well together, as much as he hates to admit it—Laf and John tend to get wrapped up in their specialties and don't see the bigger picture when it comes to running wires and positioning equipment. Burr, like Alex, sees the whole room and makes careful decisions based on where the other devices need to be.

They finish quickly, and Alex returns, again, to the living room. Mrs. Bianchi is sitting on the sofa and watching as Cecelia walks around John, playing with his hair. When John spots Alex, he gestures for him to come into the room and sit on the floor. Alex does so slowly, sitting across from John but far enough back that Cecelia can continue to circle John. Eventually, she stops and kneels in front of him.

"You have spots on your face," she says.

"I do," John agrees. "They're freckles. I have a lot of them."

Cecelia regards him for a minute. "I like them," she decides.

"Alex does too," John says, and gestures towards him. Alex grins and ducks his head. He can feel himself flushing.

"I do," he says when he looks back up, giving Cecelia a lop-sided smile.

"Cece, this is my friend Alex," John says. "He's gonna sit with us and talk for a couple minutes, if that's okay."

Cecelia walks over to Alex and inspects him, her little mouth in a serious line. After a moment, she nods and walks back over to John.

"Okay," she says. She plops herself down on his lap and starts playing with the zipper on his jacket. Alex's heart squeezes again, that weird, persistent heavy feeling returning.

"Your mom says you have a friend named Lucy?" John asks.

Cecelia glances at her mom and then pulls on John's shoulder until he leans down far enough that his ear is level with her mouth. "She doesn't think Lucy is real," she says, loud enough that Alex can hear her. Loud enough that Mrs. Bianchi can probably hear her too, though she feigns ignorance.

"Okay," John whispers back, eyes serious. "But me and Alex—we believe you. So can we talk about Lucy for a little bit?"

"Okay," she says again. She gestures for Alex to come closer, after looking at her mother cautiously again. Alex moves close enough that his knee presses against John's and Cecelia nods in satisfaction and then begins to whisper-shout all about her friend Lucy.

Once Cecelia starts talking, it's easy enough to piece together the story. For all her tangents and her habit of stopping mid-sentence to ask a question, she's surprisingly good at answering the ones John aims at her. Maybe Alex just hasn't spent enough time around kids—he sort of figured they just kind of existed helplessly until they were old enough to go to school. He doesn't remember enough about his own childhood to know otherwise. 

Cecelia tells them everything she can about her encounters with the spirit, more than enough for Alex to intuit what's going on. Children tend to be more open to spirits to begin with, but the ease with which Cecelia was communicating with it makes Alex suspicious she might have some parapsychic abilities that they should tell her parents about. She tells them about how Lucy was just wandering the house, at first unable to speak to Cecelia. After a few days, though, she noticed Cecelia and they began to play together--Lucy would take things and make them disappear, they would play hide and seek, Lucy would suggest stories for Cecelia to act out with her dolls. It all seems to point to a very routine haunting by a lonely child spirit--they're not uncommon. Much about nature of spirits is still unknown, but there are theories that the spirits of young children tend to linger because they don't fully understand what it means to be dead. It's sad, but not usually dangerous.

Once John thanks Cecelia for her help, she jumps up so fast she nearly smacks the top of her head into his jaw, then runs back over to her castle. John climbs to his feet and Alex follows--they have cameras to set up, still, and Burr's probably getting antsy.

"You're great with her," Mrs. Bianchi says to John. 

He offers her a bashful half-smile. "I'm the oldest of five."

"Well, you've got a knack for it," Mrs. Bianchi says. Then, to Alex, she adds, "You're a lucky guy."

Alex is momentarily taken aback. Has he been that obvious? Normally, none of their clients can tell that he and John are a couple. What the hell is it about today that has his affection so blatantly displayed on his face? "Thanks. We have to. Um. Hang cameras."

"I'll leave you both to your work, then," she says. "Good luck!"

That settled, they get back to work on mounting the cameras so they can maybe go home sometime this week. Alex is still feeling oddly lovestruck enough that he doesn't even complain when John gets finicky and makes him move things back and forth over and over again. Burr is waiting for them in the foyer when they're done, chatting with Mrs. Bianchi.

"We'll come back tomorrow afternoon to retrieve the data, but I'm pretty sure we know what we're dealing with, based on what Cecelia told us," Alex says. "You and your husband should discuss it tonight--odds are, the spirit is playful but not dangerous. We can expel it or you can just leave it be. Let us know and we can do whatever you'd like tomorrow evening."

"Thank you," Mrs. Bianchi says. "I'll talk to Drew about it tonight. We appreciate all your help."

"It's literally our job, ma'am," Burr says with a gracious smile.

Before they can leave, Cecelia runs into the foyer and hugs John's legs. He grins down at her fondly, curling a hand around the top of her head. He kneels down when she tugs on his pants and she whispers something into his ear. He whispers something back, his expression grave, and she shoves a piece of paper at him. Alex watches the whole thing, strangely riveted, lungs and chest so tight with affection he might burst.

"Cecelia, it's time for the boys to go," Mrs. Bianchi says and Cecelia pouts, but leaves John to cling to her mother's leg. "Tell Mr. Laurens thank you for playing with you."

"Thank you for playing with me," Cecelia parrots.

"No problem," John tells her. "It was way more fun than doing work, right?" He leans over and whispers loudly and theatrically, "Just don't tell these guys." He jerks his thumb over his shoulder at Alex and Burr and Cecelia cracks up, pressing her face into her mother's leg. 

Mrs. Bianchi mouths _Thank you!_ at John as they finally say their goodbyes and head back out to the van. They stow the last of John's equipment cases in the back and then John and Alex leave Burr to the van and get into John's car. Alex is moving by rote--he's still fighting back the urge to tackle John and kiss him, or maybe just hold onto him as tightly as possible. It's so strange and so unexpected and then John pauses before he starts the engine to look at the paper from Cecelia and once he smiles, it all clicks with horrible realization.

All of this affection, this suffocating, overwhelming twisting of his heart—all the things he's been feeling this afternoon were borne of the same image: John playing with that little girl. Alex has been losing his mind because the sight of John with a kid did something to cut his legs out from under him, made something inside of him _want_ so badly that he couldn't even parse it until this moment, watching John grin down at a scribbled crayon drawing.

What. The fuck.

It doesn't make any sense! Alex has never thought about kids before, not outside of a vague "it might be nice to have a tiny version of me to order around one day." The two of them are still kids, practically, they can barely take care of themselves, they live off easy mac and coffee, they spend more money on beer than groceries! They have so much to _do_ , so much they still need to accomplish—not to mention they're in no way financially secure enough to take care of an entire additional human who would need their attention all day every day! He won't even let John get a dog yet!

But that's not stopping the thumping on his heart and the pleasant twist of his stomach.

John starts the car and carefully pulls out of the driveway. He waits until they're pausing at the stop sign at the end of the block before he says, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" Alex says quickly. Nothing that's not _humiliating_ anyway.

"Yeah, that's a lie," John says. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Do _you_ want to talk about it?" Alex asks.

"No, but I don't want to go to the dentist either, and I do it anyway because I know it's good for me."

Alex scowls at him. "You're a fucking hypocrite, Laurens."

"Yeah, but you love me."

Alex manages to stop himself from saying something maudlin and sincere. "I never said I had good taste." 

John punches him and he shoves back and they nearly devolve into a slap fight right there, stopped at the stop sign, but Burr rolls up behind them in the department van and leans on the horn after a moment. John rolls down the window expressly to shout, "Yeah, yeah, I'm going!" at Burr, and then they're off and Alex is once again alone with his thoughts.

* * *

They get a call from the Bianchis that night and return with Laf and Burr around noon the next day to perform a gentle expulsion of the young spirit stuck in the house. It had been clear from Cecelia's story that they were dealing with a young, bored, lonely spirit that wouldn't be much trouble, but Mr. and Mrs. Bianchi ultimately decided they'd feel better if it was gone for good. Little Cecelia cries once the expulsion is complete, loud, hiccupping sobs that shake her little body and scrunch up her face. It breaks Alex's heart a little and he barely knows her. Her parents look devastated.

Because Alex's life isn't confusing enough already, it's John who follows her after she spurns her parents' comfort. He holds her and whispers to her and pets her hair and eventually her cries aren't so ear-ringing. She's still crying, still miserable, but she's calmer and more sad than angry. She lets her mother hold her again, and by the time Lafayette has printed out their invoice and given it to Mr. Bianchi, she's all but asleep. She's still crying. Alex feels like shit just looking at her, and the tender little smile John gives her when he says goodbye isn't helping him feel any better.

Goddammit, what the fuck is wrong with him? This isn't something he should want yet and he _doesn't_ want it, not now, but the stupid train of thought won't leave him alone. And, of course, he normally talks to John about the shit that lingers and messes with his head, but he can just _imagine_ how freaked out John would be if Alex started spouting off about babies.

He thinks part of it must be surprise. If he had thought about John and kids--which he _hadn't_ because _they're actually children themselves_ and this whole thing is _fucked up_ \--he doesn't know that he would have imagined John as being so good with them. Alex loves John--to an embarrassing, disgusting degree, frankly--but John is an _asshole_. That's part of why Alex loves him. Sure, there's a part of him that's secretly sweet and soft, but most of him is picking fights and having zero patience for anyone slower than he is and doing a really excessive amount of cursing. John's got a big mouth, he's frequently thoughtless, and he's got a short temper. All of those things melt together into someone who's kind and smart and brave and good-hearted, but also a hot mess of a shithead.

Alex loves him _so much_. Like, he knows that inventing new combinations of swear words and telling strangers to choke on a dick shouldn't be a turn on, _and yet_.

Which is all to say that when he thinks of the qualities someone has to possess to handle kids on a regular basis, John doesn't immediately spring to mind. He'd have imagined John blinking down at a toddler in confusion or awkwardly being pulled into games or running in the other direction. Seeing him so at home playing make-believe and making a little girl laugh has totally blindsided Alex. He hasn't even been prepared for these feelings because he never, in a million lifetimes, would have imagined this scenario.

He's glad it's Friday. He wants to go home and drink until he stops thinking about babies and starts thinking about ghosts or sex or television or research or _literally anything else_.

But, it's still early, even once they get back to the lab from the Bianchis. Burr has office hours, John ostensibly has them too, and there's paperwork to be filed and reports to be written and hours, still, to get through before it's socially acceptable to start drinking.

He shoves all the paperwork off on Laf, because the last thing he needs is to relive the last two days, and focuses his attention on grading labs instead. He has a stack of them he has to get through before next week if he's going to hand out a study guide, and grading is just the sort of monotonous work he needs to keep his mind busy. By the time John's done with his office hours and Herc shows up to meet them for dinner, Alex is mostly himself again. He's not panicking, at least, and he doesn't jump a mile when Herc taps him on the shoulder to get his attention.

"Yo, do you know when Burr's done?" he asks Alex.

Alex glances at the clock on the wall. "Like, thirty minutes. Why?"

"He owes me a drink and I’m gonna make him pay up tonight," Herc says. 

Behind him, John groans. "Does that mean we have to have dinner with Burr?"

"The door is open!" Burr's office hours are in the tiny closet office off the back of the lab. "I can hear you, Laurens!"

"It means we gotta walk over there with him, at least," Herc says. "Sorry, bro."

"I can hear you too, Mulligan!" Burr shouts. 

"Not my fault you're a buzzkill, man," Herc shouts back.

"I don't know why I bother with any of you," Burr says. His tone gives the impression that he's talking to himself, but he definitely makes a point of saying it loud enough that they can all hear it. 

"I wish you'd mentioned you were coming by," John says, nudging Herc with his elbow. "I was gonna go to the gym tonight."

"I was supposed to be at the shop, but my cousin switched with me for tomorrow morning cause he doesn't want to work with his brother," Herc says. "No fucking idea what happened there and I don't want to know, either. Easier to just go along with it." Herc's family is huge and sprawling and seems to cover most of New Jersey and all five boroughs of New York. He can barely keep track of who's talking to who himself, so Alex has no hope of ever keeping it straight.

"Maybe I'll go on a run tonight," John muses.

"No, you're gonna be too busy seducing me," Alex says, finishing up the last lab he has to grade.

"Oh, will I? Good to know. Do you think it will go well?"

Alex bites back a smile as he tallies up all the point deductions. "Yeah, I'm really easy."

"Tomorrow morning, then," John says. "Or, hey, maybe a hike. It's been awhile since I was out at Jockey Hollow."

Alex hums absently in response and writes _82_ on the top page. He circles it in red and then drops it on top of the pile of completed grading next to him. He still has to enter them all online, but at least the tedious part is done. He pushes himself away from the desk and John immediately comes over and perches on the edge of it. He swings his legs around so they fall on either side of Alex's. "Do you wanna go hiking with me tomorrow morning?" 

Alex blinks slowly. "Like...outside?"

John gives him a flat look. Behind him, he can hear Laf snickering. "Come on," John says. "We can go early, see the sunrise."

"Early? Jesus, normally I have to use a crowbar to get you out of bed for work, but you'll get up early to see the fucking sunrise in the middle of the woods?" John's hobbies are fucking weird.

"It'll be romantic as dicks," John insists, nudging Alex's thigh with the toe of one scuffed sneaker.

"I do not find dicks to be very romantic," Lafayette interjects.

"John's dick is very romantic," Alex assures them and John is clearly torn between smug satisfaction and giving Alex a solid kick. He chooses to do both, but he telegraphs the kick a little too well and Alex manages to grab his ankle before he can make contact.

"You know," Herc says, "I spent a lot less time talking about dicks before I knew y'all."

"You know you love us," John says dismissively. "What do you say? Wanna go hiking? Romance optional."

Alex squeezes John's ankle sharply. "Hey!"

"Hiking is fucking white nonsense," Herc says.

"Whatever. Laf?" John's eyebrows rise hopefully.

Alex turns enough to see Lafayette as he pauses in consideration. "Why not?" he decides. "It's been a long time since I saw the sunrise."

"Cool, you guys have fun with your outside and physical exertion and your whatever the hell else," Alex says. John slides off of the desk and onto his lap. His pout is spectacularly over the top—Alex can't hide his smile. He drapes his arms over Alex's shoulders and around his neck.

"Don't you love me, baby?" he says.

 _I love you so much I can't fucking stop thinking about raising a goddamn child with you,_ Alex doesn't say. "Hey, I signed up for the results of your exercise fetish, not the process," he says instead. He slips his hands under John's shirt and rubs his thumbs over his abs when John automatically tenses his muscles.

"Going to the gym like, twice a week for an hour is only a fetish if your idea of exercise is climbing to the top of the lecture hall to hand out photocopies," John says, but he leans into Alex's touch and his eyes are taking on that dark, warm color that means they're probably going to be locking themselves in the single stall bathroom in the basement before too long.

"There are a lot of stairs in that lecture hall," Alex insists. He smiles when John leans forward to press their foreheads together and squeezes John's hips.

"Hey, keep it in your pants, kids," Herc says. "Think of Laf's poor virgin eyes."

"There's nothing virgin about my eyes," Laf says and shoves Herc.

"Your poor celibate eyes, then," Herc says. "It's a long way back to France, bro, I feel it."

"Adrienne and I are just friends!"

"Mmhm."

"Could _all of you_ be quiet?" Burr yells over from the closet office.

It propels Herc and Laf and Burr into another half-shouted conversation, which Alex and John use as a flimsy excuse to sneak away. It's not like anyone doesn't know exactly what they're doing when John hops off of his lap and they duck out of the lab holding hands. 

The basement is quiet and mostly empty. It's home to the older lab space with no windows, some smaller classrooms, a computer lab, and a few offices. None of them seem to be occupied at the moment—it's almost quitting time on a Friday—and no one passes them as they slip into the single stall bathroom at the very end of the hall. John hits the lights and locks the door and pivots, wrapping his arms around Alex's neck and kissing him without prelude. Sex on school property during daylight hours tends to be quiet, hot, and expedient, but Alex finds himself slowing down the kiss and turning it into something softer, almost without realizing it. John is a little dazed when he pulls away.

"Wow," he says, blinking. "That was, um—"

"Yeah, sorry," Alex says breathlessly.

"No, no, I'm into it," John says. "You just—"

"Today has just been, um—it's hard to explain, I just—I keep feeling like—my chest, my whole body, my _heart_...I've been thinking about you all day, I can't stop. You and us and...the enormity of it all." Which is fucking not the type of conversation that's really meant to happen in a dirty bathroom stall. He can feel himself starting to flush.

"I get it. Sort of." John presses a quick kiss to the corner of Alex's mouth. "And normally—like, tonight, when we get home, please feel free to continue that line of thought, cause I like where it's going."

"Okay," Alex says.

"But we're in a bathroom in the basement of the parapsych building and our friends are upstairs making fun of the fact that we slipped away to have a quickie before dinner," John continues. "So right now, maybe not?"

"Okay," Alex says again.

"Right now, maybe—"

Alex drops to his knees and looks up at John, eyebrows raised.

"Yes, yes, right now maybe that," John says quickly. 

 Alex grins and reaches up for John's belt. At least having a dick in his mouth should stop him from saying something else embarrassingly maudlin.

* * *

Alex spends the first few hours of Saturday morning puttering around the apartment and working on the study guide that he and John are putting together for the intro classes they TA. John and Lafayette had left at the asscrack of dawn for their stupid hiking trip; no amount of whining, grabby hands, and promise of sexual favors could get John to forego the outdoors to spend the morning in bed.

"You sucked my dick less than twelve hours ago and, odds are, you'll suck it again sometime in the next twenty-four, so that's not as good a bargaining chip as you think it is," John had said. 

He did sort of have a point.

So John kissed him goodbye and murmured, "I love you, asshole," and Alex sulked and sprawled, but ultimately ended up here, piecing together a study guide and watching old movies on Netflix. He has coffee and cold pizza that passes as breakfast and, while he always prefers to be working in concert with John, he has to admit that he's getting a lot more done on his own than he would have if John had stayed behind or, perish the thought, Alex had joined him.

He breezes through the first few pages of the study guide, but gets stymied on the section about equipment. He wants to include photos with each informational blurb, enough to give the kids a clear view of all sides of each object, but he's having a difficult time finding photos that are that detailed. He turns the internet upside down and then flips through a few months worth of case photos on the off-chance that John got bored with his camera and started shooting equipment. In the end, he gives up and gives Herc a call.

"Hey, can I come over to the shop and take some pictures?" he asks.

"What's that thing they say about couples starting to look like each other?" Herc asks.

"Shut up. Can I?"

"It's a free country, I don't give a shit. No one else is here—my cousin and the rest of them, I mean, we got customers—so I'm bored anyway. Bring me a coffee."

"I'll be on my bike."

"So park the bike at the shop and walk down the block and buy me a fucking coffee."

Alex sighs, as if he wasn't planning on doing that for himself anyway. "Fine. See you in half an hour."

He throws everything he might need into his backpack and fires a quick text off to John-- _Going to Herc's to grab some shit, come find me when you're home?_ \--then heads downstairs and hops on his bike. It's a nice ride into town, especially this early on a Saturday. The streets are clear and quiet as Alex coasts through them, finally rolling to a stop outside of Herc's shop. He chains his bike up to a railing in the parking lot and takes a quick detour to the Dunkin Donuts on the corner, then shoulders his way inside. 

Mulligan Investigation Outfitters is a little dim and a little cramped, just like every good paranormal tech shop should be. It's possible Alex just feels that way because it makes him nostalgic for Beekman and Cruger, but he likes to think dingy and overcrowded is just the parapsych shop aesthetic. Herc is behind the counter, messing around on his phone, and there's a customer browsing the bookshelves, but the shop is otherwise empty.

"Yo, bring that up here," Herc says. He gestures impatiently and Alex scampers to the front to hand him his coffee, then puts his bag down on the stool next to the counter.

"I'm gonna take some pictures," he says, and Herc waves him away, much more interested in his coffee than whatever Alex is getting up to.

It doesn't take too long to locate the equipment he needs, even when he gets distracted nosing through some of the stock. He finishes quickly and returns to the counter. The customer from before has ducked out, leaving Alex and Herc alone in the shop. Alex drops his bag to the floor so he can perch on the stool, fiddling idly with some of the stuff on the counter. Herc has a couple spirit boxes dismantled and seems to be using one for parts to fix the other. He slides them both over towards Alex.

"Go to town," Herc says. "There's a short somewhere between the sweep rate button and the transmitter on the 2014 model. See if you can find it--the 2012 is for scraps."

 Alex hasn't fixed this particular problem on the 2014, but something similar used to happen not infrequently with the old 2008 model. Alex can think of a few fixes right off the top of his head, so he doesn't hesitate to grab a tiny screwdriver and dive right in. He used to spend hours every week fiddling with equipment, making upgrades, fixing things and coming up with workarounds for shorts or fried circuits. It's not second nature to him the way it is to Herc--he has to think about it, really focus--but it's soothing all the same. A familiar connection to his past in these strange few days that he's spent reassessing his future.

He's not sure how much time passes. Some customers come in and out, the bells on the door ringing as they do. Herc rings people up and answers questions and Alex ignores it all until a phone buzzes on the counter. 

"That's yours," Herc tells him and Alex blinks at him, shaking himself out of his reverie. Herc leans over to glance at the screen. "Three Dogs in a Trenchcoat Green Heart says 'On our way back, do you and Herc want breakfast sandwiches from the weird deli by the bakery?'" He looks up at Alex, squinting.

"It's a long story," Alex says, and ducks his head in a vain attempt to hide his stupid grin. "It's John." 

"No, really?"

Alex snatches his phone off the counter and slides open the message. "Do you want a sandwich or not?"

"Yeah, yeah, taylor ham and egg on a hard roll," Herc says. 

 

 

He doesn't even have time to put his phone down before it starts buzzing again with John's replies.

 

 

Alex's eyeroll must be obvious. Herc makes a vague, bemused noise from the register.

 

 

John is an asshole.

 

 

Well, John is an asshole, but he's _Alex's_ asshole.

"You done sexting yet?" Herc asks, and Alex flips him off. He closes his phone and stuffs it in his pocket, but he can't get the smile off of his face, even as he leans against the counter and goes back to fiddling with the spirit box. "What's up with you, bro? You keep smiling like you just got laid. No--not like you just got laid, less smug. Like you opened the door and there was a surprise kitten waiting for you."

"I don't care about kittens," Alex says. 

Herc waves at him dismissively. "You know what I mean." 

It would be easy to wave Herc off, to tell him it's been a weird couple days, to school his features and focus on the task at hand. But, sometimes he forgets that Herc is older than they are--a lot older. Most of the time it doesn't necessarily feel that way, but then Herc will do or say something, will roll his eyes or make a reference that files over all of their heads, and it all comes back into sharp relief. Herc has a job--many jobs, actually--and an apartment and bills and a _life_. Like, a real, grown-up life. If he has a girlfriend, he's quiet about it, but with the way Herc can be so secretive, Alex wouldn't be surprised at all to learn he does. And he's definitely had many more relationships than Alex has had. 

He chews his lip thoughtfully. "Herc," he says after a moment. "You're like...an adult, right?"

Herc snorts. "Ish."

"Right," Alex says. "Can I ask you a question? It's like a...guy question."

"Ham, if you haven't learned about the birds and the bees by now, I feel bad for Laurens."

God, all of his friends are fucking assholes. "Not that kind of--it's like, a relationship question. I don't know. Forget it."

He leans over and focuses on the spirit box again, but Herc nudges his arm until he looks up.

"Come on, go ahead," Herc says. "I can't promise I have an answer."

Alex suddenly doesn't want to ask at all. This is stupid, he's being stupid, it's nothing, it's not important--

"Hey, Ham." Herc pokes his arm. "Come on, I promise I won't give you shit."

Alex sighs. "This is gonna sound...dumb. But, like...I know women sometimes talk about how, when they see babies, they like, go a little baby crazy, right? Like, 100% not trying to be sexist, based entirely on shit I heard from girls I knew in undergrad and shit Molly says."

"Biological clock," Herc confirms.

"That's not--" Alex doesn't want to launch into a rant about sexism and the assumption that all women want to be mothers. He closes his eyes and focuses. "The point is--did you ever...I don't know, when you were dating someone and you were really into them, did you ever see them with a baby and start to get like...feelings?"

His face is on fire. This is by far the most embarrassing conversation he's ever had in his life. Jesus, normally talking about this shit--relationships and feelings and the intricacies of building a life with someone--doesn't phase him at all. Normally, he's the one spouting off all of his ideas and desires, nudging John into responding, into sharing his own. But this is--

He's twenty-two. This isn't something he's supposed to want yet. And he _doesn't_. It's not like he wants to go out and adopt a zillion babies with John, the mere thought of it makes him want to throw up. But something--something in his brain can't drop it, this warmth that unfurled in his chest when he saw his John sitting there with a little girl in his arms.

He risks a glance up at Herc, who looks for a split second like he's going to say something shitty. He pauses, though, and frowns for a moment, tapping his fingers on the counter.

"Let's cut the hypothetical shit," Herc says. "This is a thing that happened with Laurens?" Alex nods miserably. Herc takes another long, considering moment before he responds. "There's a girl I get with sometimes. On and off, for a long time, since we were kids. Like, younger than you. Kids-kids. We went to high school together. And every couple years we see each other again and we make a go of it again, but we're both all over the place, you know? I've got my shit and she's got hers--she does parapsych too, she's an engineer. She travels a lot. And, you know, that's her thing, that's what she wants to do and neither of us wants to sit around waiting. Life's too short."

This is maybe the second longest Alex has ever heard Herc talk about his personal life. He nods silently, an encouragement to keep going.

"Well, you know, she knows the family, a couple times she's been around when there've been Mulligan reunions and shit like that, so she comes along. Chases my nieces and nephews and cousins around. And, yeah. Sometimes I see her walking around with my niece on her hip and I think about a future where our shit settles down and maybe we end up together. And--you know, if I'm gonna have kids some day, it's gonna be with Lizzie." He shrugs. "But who knows if that'll happen. I don't even know if I fucking want it to happen. But that's what I think when I see it--it's not like I wanna go out and knock her up or some fucking macho shit like that, it's just like...it's like looking into the future and seeing what could happen some day. And kind of...wanting it. At least a little."

Alex nods slowly and stares down at the counter without seeing it. Alex wants to get his PhD, he wants to open his own business and write a book or six. He wants to make a name for himself and see the world. He wants a legacy. But there's more than one type of legacy. When he thinks of the future, it's mostly centered around his work, who he wants to be, but for at least the past six or seven months, John's always been there too. He thinks about all of these things like it's a given that he'll have John, he'll always have John, they'll always work and live and be together. If he allows himself to think outside of work, past papers and books and lectures and field work, it's not hard to picture more. It's not hard to imagine that maybe, one day, they'll have a family.

He sits down heavily on the stool. He doesn't know why this is so shocking, so embarrassing. For all that he lives in the moment, he's always had a plan, a goal. He's always known who he wants to be eventually. Why should his relationship be any different? Why should he imagine where he'll be working in ten years, but not where he'll be living and what he'll be doing when he goes home at the end of the day? The thought of one day raising a child--children, even!--with the man he already knows he wants to be with forever shouldn't seem strange or frivolous. It shouldn't be unexpected. He's Alexander Hamilton--he always has a plan. Why not a plan for this, too, or at least a quiet, absent desire?

Alex covers his face with his hands. "I'd be a terrible dad, probably," he says. "I don't--I didn't really have one, you know? And Mr. Stevens--my foster dad--it's a long story, it's a weird story, and I'd probably be a terrible dad, but he was so fucking at home with that little girl in a way that was so foreign to me. It was like he knew a different language. I don't know. He was so good and so relaxed and calm and--he'd be a good dad. That's what I was thinking. At least, I think that's what I was thinking. He'd be a good dad. And, logically, if we're together in ten years or however long--which we totally will be, unless he gets sick of me--then it's, you know, likely that his kids will be my kids too. That we'll have kids. That we'll be a family. I mean, we already are a family. Me and him. But. Fuck. I don't even know if this is what I want, but for the past couple days it's all I can think about!"

"Don't start fucking hyperventilating," Herc says, nudging his arm again. "I just told you it's normal. It's not weird to see the person you want to spend the rest of your life with playing with a kid and imagine what it'll be like when it's your kid, okay? Even if you don't know if you want kids. Even if you don't even want to _think_ about whether you want kids for another decade. Okay? Don't get all fucking dramatic on me, here."

Alex forces himself to take a deep breath and then let it out and drop his hands. Herc's eyebrows are raised, but he's not viciously mocking Alex, at least. He squeezes Alex's shoulder and Alex manages a weak smile.

"I don't know why I'm freaking out about this."

"Uh, cause you're twenty-two and the thought of that much responsibility makes you want to puke?"

Right. That's it. "Thanks, Herc. I know this was...weird. But I appreciate it."

"Believe me, it's not nearly as weird as I thought it'd be when you said you had a grown-up guy problem," Herc says. He claps Alex on the shoulder again just as the door to the shop opens. It's another couple customers, regulars if the way Herc rolls his eyes is anything to go by. "Work on that thing if you want, I gotta go deal with these assholes."

Alex nods and tries to clear his mind and focus on the spirit box again, getting lost in the circuitry and mechanics of it all. He's not sure how much time passes, but he's just about fixed the problem when he hears the bells on the door shaking again.

"Well, if it isn't three dogs in a trenchcoat," Herc says, and Alex looks up so fast he almost gets whiplash. John automatically flashes a confused smile at both of them.

"How the fuck do you even know about that?" he asks.

"He had my phone when you texted before," Alex says. John shakes his head and brings the brown paper bag of sandwiches over to the counter. Herc grabs it before he can even set it down and Alex hops off of his stool. He looks at John for a moment—the sleepy circles under his eyes, the way his hair is trying to escape from its ponytail, the way he's bouncing on his toes, the fond exasperation in his smile, the bruise just peeking out from his henley where Alex bit him hard to keep from shouting out his orgasm in the bathroom yesterday afternoon. He's a little flushed, still, from climbing whatever the hell trail he was climbing this morning, and the longer Alex stares at him, the more perplexed he seems.

"Is there something on my face?" John finally asks. "Or are you just stunned speechless by my good looks?"

"Kind of the second one," he says, and John really should have expected that answer, but he flushes and looks immediately at his shoes, fiddling with the wispy curls on the back of his neck. Alex can't help but spend a second marveling at how fucking lucky he is to have John in all the various ways he has him. "Hey, come here."

John looks up and Alex immediately steps forward and hugs him. He holds on tight, wraps his arms around John and squeezes, buries his face against John's shoulder and breathes in deeply.

"Are you okay?" John asks, although he doesn't seem unhappy with the embrace—the opposite, in fact. John has melted against him, is holding on just as tightly without even knowing why.

"Yeah," Alex assures him. "I'm sorry I've been weird the past couple days. I'm just thinking a lot. About us."

"Should I be worried?"

Behind them, Herc snorts. "Be the opposite of worried, Laurens," he says.

"Okay...." John says. "Whatever the fuck that means."

Alex should probably let go, step back and assure John that they're fine, that Alex is thinking through some things, that it's not important. This feels good, though. Comfortable.

"Hey, you're—I don't even know how to ask this," Alex says. He sees Herc shake his head fondly and then slip into the back room. There are no customers—it's just the two of them. He closes his eyes.

"Well," John says, after Alex has been quiet for far too long, "usually when you want to know a thing you just ask it, as bluntly as possible, probably just to fucking torture me."

Alex laughs and turns his head and press his lips against the side of John's neck. Maybe it's not time to mention babies, but that's only part of it, really. He can address the root issue, if nothing else. "Okay. Um, you and me—you're not going anywhere, right? Just—I think about the future now, I think about my plans for the future, and you're always there. You're a part of them. And—it's the same for you, right?"

John is quiet for a moment. He strokes his fingers up and down Alex's back. "If you're asking if I'm ever planning to break up with you, the answer is no. But I...don't really think about the future. Not like that. But there's not. Um." He can feel John duck his head so that his forehead is resting on Alex's shoulder. "Ugh, I hate this. Why do we have to talk about things?"

"You were the one who wanted to talk about it before! You were the one who asked me what was wrong yesterday!"

"That's because I didn't think it would involve _me_ talking about my feelings!" John insists. "I thought something was bothering you and I'd just have to pet your hair and tell you everything was gonna be okay and that I loved you! This is like...." He sighs and straightens up, just a little. He pulls back just far enough to see Alex, to look him in the eye. He loosens the embrace and Alex immediately regrets turning the conversation in this direction. He'll go back to letting John fumble over his words if it means John's arms will still be around him.

But John frames Alex's face with his hands. His expression is as serious as he ever gets and his touch is gentle. "I love you like I've never loved anyone else. Like I never will love anyone else. Okay? I plan on spending the rest of my life with you. Is that what you need to hear?"

"I don't need to hear anything, I'm not—" 

John leans forward and kisses him before he can say anything else. It's quick and chaste, but it has the desired effect. Alex remains silent when John pulls back.

"I mean it. I mean it every day, I've always meant it. I think it every day, even if I don't say it out loud. I just—I thought you knew."

"I do," Alex says. "And this is all...this is all a mess. All it is—the last couple days, I've just been thinking a lot about the future. My future. Our future together. I can't stop thinking about it. And just, that's what's been on my mind. That's why I've been so weird."

John nods. "Okay."

"I just want to make sure you'll be there before I start letting myself get ideas about forever, you know?" Alex mumbles.

"You have me for the rest of my life," John tells him again. "I can't promise forever, but I can give you that much. Okay?"

Alex would prefer forever—he's not too keen to think about the end of John's life. He nods anyway, though. John strokes Alex's cheekbones with his thumbs one more time and then drops his hands to Alex's shoulders.

"Are we done?" John asks hopefully.

And, well, he could keep going. He could talk about seeing John play with Cecelia and wondering what it would be like to have a child of their own. He could tell John how terrifying he finds the whole idea, but how it won't leave him alone. He could admit to John that maybe, some day far in the future, he could possibly want something like that.

But, jesus, he suddenly understands why John finds all of their emotional conversations so stressful. He's much more interested in having breakfast and maybe going back to the lab to do some work or make out in Washington's office.

"We're done," Alex confirms. "Where's my sandwich?"

John rolls his eyes and shoves Alex away, but Alex grabs his wrist and pulls him back. He kisses John, though they're both smiling too much for it to be anything more than an affectionate press of their mouths.

"Come on, tell me about nature while I eat," Alex says. "I'll even pretend to listen."

John shoves him again. "Wow, I'm so lucky to have you."

And if his tone is just a little too earnest, then so is Alex's answering smile, and there's no one around to say anything about it.


End file.
